


Post On a Sunday? No Chance.

by Cattycat1310



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Neck Kissing, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Sorry Not Sorry, implied daddy kink more like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:08:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24844315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cattycat1310/pseuds/Cattycat1310
Summary: It's Father's Day and Alfie receives a card through his door, from who'd have guessed it- Thomas Shelby.Oh, very funny, (insert daddy kink joke here).
Relationships: Tommy Shelby/Alfie Solomons
Comments: 1
Kudos: 100





	Post On a Sunday? No Chance.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I got this idea this morning when i received a very uh, inappropriate message from one of my friends. So, i decided to bring it to life because this whole concept is just fucking funny to me tbh, and Ada and Tommy are my favourite bisexual disasters and i love to think that they have a pretty close relationship.  
> I really hope you enjoy it, but if it makes you "what the fuck" then i have also done my job. :))

Lounging on his armchair, one hand holding his book open, and the other stroking his beard absentmindedly, Alfie Solomons was steadily growing bored of his current read- pretty much halfway through and not even a hint of the adventure, romance or tomfoolery that had been promised to him on the front cover.  
Could probably do a better job of writing it if he did say so himself, but then again Alfie often thought this about a multitude of things. 

It wasn’t long before his mind began to wander from the words he was reading, to Tommy’s whereabouts and how long he’d have to wait to lay his hands on that pretty body of his. But he was at the office and _didn’t know how long the paperwork would take Alfie_ and he’d _just have to wait until I get home Alfie._

Not even being 3pm yet, he knew that he couldn’t expect him home for at least another hour or so, but still he itched to check his phone for a text from the lad. _Fuck off_ he was not impatient, or needy for that matter, he was fine sitting there like a lemon all by himself, whilst the love of his life slaved away at the beloved job of his- who wouldn’t be? 

Fucking loved it mate.

To his credit, he did try to refocus his mind and get through this next chapter, something about a dinner party and a fainting Duchess… oh, who was he kidding? He really didn’t give a shit about these characters, so cursing half to himself and half to the sleeping Cyril laying beside to his feet, he forced himself out of the seat and made his way over to put the kettle on.

Really, who went into work on a Sunday? Thomas Shelby that’s who, little workaholic that he was didn’t even need to go in but apparently he didn’t trust John to take care of the final bits of paperwork, and wanted to wrap things up in this deal for himself. Maybe it was important, but Alfie wanted him here and preferably without clothing okay? With his pretty eyes all glassy and wide, settled between his legs with his mouth wrapped around his—

Alfie’s daydream was interrupted by Cyril bounding toward the door, rather vocally and as he craned his neck from the kitchen to see who it was, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t hope it was Tommy home early. But no, a white envelope was poking through the letterbox. 

Post? On a fucking Sunday? No chance mate, looked like it had been hand-posted. He wracked his brain for a birthday, anniversary or any event that would warrant a card being posted through his door, on this very day and flicking his phone from his pocket to double check, the date Sunday 21 June looked back at him. Nothing special rang a bell.

Next minute, the dog plucked it from the letter box, tail wagging excitedly before Alfie had a chance.

“Drop that you little shit—” he lunged after him, and traded him the now damp envelope for a scratch behind the ear.

His initial thought was that maybe it had been posted at the wrong address, but as he looked over the writing on the front, sure enough it read **Alfie Solomons.**  
“Maybe it’s a bomb” he pondered offering Cyril a glance, but opening it to reveal a card inside. If his _great Aunt Esther had mixed up his Birthday again_ he wasn’t going to be impressed.

Except, when he had fully torn away the envelope, it wasn’t a birthday card inside.  
_Oh you had to be fucking kidding,_ in big bold letters the card read:

**Happy Father’s Day.**

And upon opening, a neat handwritten note: _To Alfie, From Tommy._

Part of him couldn't believe this had even crossed Tommy's mind, but at the same time, he had been known to be this extra, Oh that was how he wanted to play now was it?

About an hour and a half passed, until Tommy finally trudged through the door.  
Alfie fought the urge to pin him up against the wall as soon as his jacket had been shrugged from his tired shoulders, and instead sat with the same book in his hands, and stretched his lips in a smile in greeting.

“Heya Treacle, alright?”

Sighing dramatically in response, Tommy sauntered over to the worn leather armchair, draping his legs over his lover and straddling his lap. The taller man welcomed the slow, lazy kisses that followed and drew him in close splaying his hands across his warm body.

“Long day?” 

“Mm” he almost moaned and melted into the kiss before replying “Better now.”

Something about the intimacy of the lazy kisses, and soft sounds he was drawing from the beautiful man in his lap brought that dark lust he’d pushed away back to the surface and Alfie couldn’t help but growl as he latched onto the others bottom lip.

“You know” he started kissing and nipping the Shelby’s jawline, and ran his calloused fingers up his chest so that they were resting around his slender neck “When you want me like this, you just have to ask. Because I could dominate you all day long Sweetie.”

His grip tightened slightly at the words, and Tommy’s breath hitched.

“But you’re very funny Tom, even caught me by surprise, which you know” he returned to kissing his neck “Is very difficult considering I can see the future and all that.”

At that, he laughed breathlessly as Alfie’s beard scratched and tickled against his exposed skin.  
“I know that.. but what are you talking about?”

“Always the coy one aren’t we?” Licking a stripe up his throat, he then explained, “The card you sent me, very creative.”

Pausing with a confused look on his face, Tommy drew back so that he could look into his blue eyes.  
“Not that I don’t want this, because I really” he leaned into his rough hands further “really want you like this. But, I don’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

“Then why the fuck did I get a Father’s day card from you?”

He chuckled in response, “Let me see.” 

Reaching for the card on the table beside him, Alfie passed it to him and watched as his eyes flicked over the writing until a look of realisation settled over his expression.

“Well?”

“The little cunt—” his mouth hung open in astonishment “I know who’s fucking writing this is! I bet she thinks she fucking hilarious just wait until I get a hold of her—"

Before Alfie could even question who the culprit was and what the fuck was going on, Tommy had his phone whipped out of his pocket and was dialling a number that was apparently already in his contacts. How had he figured out who’d sent it so fast? Yes he was notoriously quick and calculative, but this was fucking impressive even for him mate.

“Ada?” he practically shouted down the phone pressed to his ear “Oh you little fuck! Do you think you’re fucking funny or what?!”

An explosive laugh came from down the line, and it sounded pretty hysterical. Obviously she knew exactly what he was talking about without even saying it. On her part, that was quite fucking funny wasn’t it? But Alfie couldn’t help but wonder how she’d got the idea.

“I recognise your hand writing you’re not bloody original! I’m going to smother you you—stop laughing! Oh, next time I see you—” Ada’s contagious laugh was cut off as a flushed Thomas Shelby hung up in defeat, a light blush dusted across his cheeks.

“Did you tell her or something?” Solomons laughed as he cupped his embarrassed face in his hands again, and sought out eye contact.

“Of course I fucking didn’t!” his face burned further.

“Oh, of course, nobody can know that the hard-core Thomas Shelby of Shelby Company limited happens to sometimes call a humble baker, such as myself, daddy—" he teased, and drew the smaller man closer into a hot kiss.

“She must have glanced at a particularly filthy text of yours” which, they could be he had to admit, was he in such a mood, or out of town for a couple days “and retained the information it seems.”

This whole situation was entirely unique and a more than a little bit amusing, he could not deny, and they burst into laughter in unison, pressing their foreheads together.

“Now” Alfie started, pulling his waist in with a tight grip “Where were we?”

“Oh, I don’t know Mr Solomons. You’ll have to show me.”


End file.
